


After The End

by incomprehensiblemetaphor



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, post s13 finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 15:16:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6157859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incomprehensiblemetaphor/pseuds/incomprehensiblemetaphor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tucker isn't exactly lucky, but he's lucky enough that someone else can help with what just happened in his head.</p><p>Picks up a bit after where the last episode of season 13 left off so spoilers I guess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After The End

None of them realized that something was wrong until they were on the Pelican, except maybe for Tucker. The battle had passed in a ballet of gunfire and AI chatter for him. Each moment overlapped with the others and he only started to realize after the fact that he was hearing too many voices at once and not hearing one very important one. 

Even when Wash and Carolina came, things didn't slow down. They brought a new wave of guards with them, and one of the ones that didn't go down with a volley from the Brute Shot that Grif had reclaimed pitched something into the room that they were defending that made everything bloom with fire. 

A thought and it all reversed, fire folding back into the grenade that Tucker watched the guard unthrow. And then for a few seconds there were two of him. One held the line behind the table, and the other vaulted into the hallway and rammed his sword into the grenade-weilding guard's gut. The guard let out a choked sort of gasp and dropped the grenade, pin unpulled. 

Carolina had beckoned them down a hallway and Tucker had almost didn't want to follow, but he did and then... then he was sitting in the transport trying to sort through all of the noise in his head. He tried to find Church under the mess, to yell at him to get everyone who was yelling inside of his skull in line, but Tucker realized that none of the voices were his friend's. 

But there was an alert on his HUD, a message of some sort. He couldn't imagine what it was at a time like that, maybe something left over from whatever Hargrove had been doing to it. He let the message play. 

Tucker wrenched off his helmet and hurled it at the ground with a shout. The reds and blues and former Freelancers stared from their seats either side of the bay as he stormed out of the room. 

Wash was the first to move. He picked up the helmet that used to belong to Maine, took off his own, and put it on. The shape was unfamiliar and the field of view was more than strange. The tail end of a recording was still playing when Wash got it settled on his head. 

“...But the hero never gets to see that ending. They'll never know if their sacrifice actually made a difference. They'll never know....” 

Wash pulled the helmet off. He'd heard enough. The voice was Epsilon's and the message... it didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on. 

“Wash, what--” Carolina stopped talking abruptly when Wash threw the helmet at her. She caught it on reflex, looking from it to the glower on Wash's face, and then back at the glimmer of the HUD that still showed the oscillating waves of the recording. 

The door that Tucker had disappeared through opened to the Pelican's cockpit. The pilot was alone in the front, talking frantically into a headset and not paying attention to the teal soldier slumped against the wall in the back. Wash didn't make any effort to keep his footsteps quiet and Tucker jumped a bit when he heard them start to approach, then quickly sank back into the wall. “Dude, whatever you're selling, I'm--”

Wash slid down against the wall so that he was sitting a few feet away from Tucker. “I heard the recording.”

Tucker scoffed. “Fucking figures, doesn't it? Of course Church would pull something like that.”

“Tucker--”

“Stop. Just... fucking stop. You're gonna say that you know how I must be feeling or some shit. My best friend just killed himself in my brain. You don't have a fucking clue.”

Wash nodded slowly. He was still holding his own helmet and started turning it over in his hands, just for something to look at besides Tucker, who sounded like he was past the point of tearing up. “You're right,” he said softly. “When I had Epsilon implanted, he was a stranger. I can't imagine what it would be like for that to happen with someone that you care about.” 

Tucker lowered his hands and let them hang limp, supported by his knees. “I thought there was something off when we were fighting, you know? He wasn't really saying anything, but I thought maybe the suit just had a lot of stuff for him to handle.” A quick breath of humorless laughter. “Guess I was pretty fucking right.”

“Tucker...” Wash started again. 

Tucker looked over and seemed to be searching Wash's face. It wasn't the first time they had their helmets off around each other, Wash couldn't remember ever really paying attention when it happened. Tucker looked pretty much as Wash had imagined when they first met: dark and round faced in a way that probably would have fit the air he always put on if it didn't look so... fragile at that moment. 

“There isn't really a way for me to get exactly what's going on in your head, but I remember enough from what happened to me, so just... I might be able to help if there's anything you need to get off your chest.”

Tucker nodded slowly and considered it for a moment. “Do you... still remember what it was like?”

“Of course. But it gets easier to deal with.”

“How the fuck does it get easier?”

“I don't know. It just does.” Wash hesitated. “What's it like right now?”

“It's like all the little pieces of him just won't shut up!” Tucker put his face back in his palms and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I can't fucking think straight and it's like I keep seeing him out of the corner of my eye.”

Wash almost stopped himself, but reached out and put a hand on Tucker's shoulder. “Want me to stay here until they quiet down?”

Tucker took a moment, nodded, and leaned into the contact. “Thanks, Wash.”

“It's gonna get better, Tucker. Just trust me.”

“...okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn't edited at all really, but I hope it's at least not painful to read. I've got a few vague ideas of where this could go if I ever continue it, so say so if you're interested (because otherwise I probably will forget).


End file.
